


I Can Hear You Singing

by Aki_Aiko



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, deaf!Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aki_Aiko/pseuds/Aki_Aiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt, a deaf violinist, is the new kid at Dalton Academy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Hear You Singing

Not too long ago, in an Ohio hospital, a fever nearly took the life of a boy named Kurt Hummel.  It didn't take his life, though.  It took his hearing instead.  
  
Kurt learned both his letters and how to sign in elementary school, so he could connect with the outside world as he grew older, but he still drifted through the days, watching everything pass by.  
  
Oddly enough, music that captivated his attention.  He could feel it in a way he was sure his dad couldn't, and it fascinated him.  
  
After a brief stint at Haverbrook, he transferred to Dalton Academy.  Just because a school was for people with special needs didn't mean it had no bullying.  There was this one kid...  
  
Kurt shook his head as he walked through Dalton's halls.  Other boys rushed past them, their lips moving.  They moved too quickly for him to figure out what they were saying.  He caught only snatches of half-formed syllable, not able to see anyone's face for the short seconds it would have took him to process their words.  
  
Sighing, Kurt trailed behind him.  Did Dalton have pep rallies?  Maybe this was some kind of orientation.  
  
Because he'd lingered at the back of the crowed, he was one of the last kids into the common room, so he stood near the open double doors, watching some of the other boys meet in the middle of the room and form a row of three short lines.  They began to move to a beat Kurt could make out by the way their bodies moved.  
  
He couldn't follow the lyrics being sung, but he managed to figure out what they were singing by how often the words 'teenage dream' formed on their lips.  Kurt smiled.  He knew that song, though it wasn't a favorite of his.  
  
He was so caught up on watching how they moved that it took him a moment to realize that the lead guy was staring directly at him.  He couldn't even believe it, at first, but a glance around the room said that, yes, the guy was looking at him.  A very cute boy was singing to him in front of what might be the whole school.  
  
Kurt bit his lip, blushing, and tried to hide the pleased smile that threatened to split his face in two.  Something like this would never have happened in Haverbrook.  
  
The spell was broken when the song ended.  The other boys in the room ran towards the singing group and enveloped them in hugs and patted their backs, generally blocking them from view, even that cute boy who'd been singing lead.  Kurt suddenly felt stupid.  What had he been thinking?  Dalton, no matter what he'd heard otherwise, was not a gay school.  He was the same fish out of water he always was.  
  
Kurt hefted his messenger bag onto a one shoulder and slipped out of the room.  If he'd have looked back, he would have seen the boy who'd serenaded him break away from the crowd, only to be left staring at the spot Kurt left behind.  
  
Waiting until after his roommate left for class, Kurt dragged his violin from the closet where he'd stashed it-not because he was a bad player.  Quite the contrary.  He'd been playing since he was nine, when he dad had bought him a used violin to learn on.    
  
There was just this fear.  What if he hit some jarring note and didn't notice or messed up the rhythm or something else equally embarrassing.  It was a stupid fear, really.  He could feel the pitch and vibration of the music on his neck, along his shoulder.  He'd know if he screwed up.    
  
Kurt worked quickly with the time he had, looking over his instrument, tuning it up, and then lifting it up to rest under his chin so that he could run the bow of the violin across its strings.  
  
His mind drifted as he played.  Sometimes, he liked to pretend he could actually hear the music the way normal people did, not just the limited range of what was left to him.  What Kurt wouldn't give the hear the full range of Patti LuPone's voice or not have to strain to watch the actors' lips move from where he sat in one of the back seats of the local theater his dad let him go to on certain Fridays.  
  
Most of all, he wished he could remember how his mother sounded.  He'd been so young when he lost his hearing, and she'd been so young when she died...  
  
Kurt's hand faltered, throwing everything off-kilter.    
  
He frowned and lowered his arm, letting the bow dangle from his hand.  After a moment of silent sulking, he packed the violin away.  
  
Outside the door, students in Dalton blazers stood with their heads cocked towards the door.  Some had stopped on their way between classes, having rushed back to their rooms for forgotten items.  A couple of them were kids who had the day off, due to either odd schedules or sick days, and were simply hanging around their room waiting the day out.  
  
They'd never heard Kurt play before.  No one had.  At Haverbrook, his lessons were private, the judgmental eyes of his peers too distracting for him to concentrate on his lessons.  He did play for his dad, though.  If it weren't for him, Kurt probably would have given up a long time ago. Performing a small little concert at home was the least he could do to pay the man back.  
  
When the door to his room opened, his audience scattered.  He looked curiously at their retreating backs.  Boys in general were strange, but Dalton boys in particular were just weird sometimes.    
  
x  
  
"You're late."  Wes glanced up from his Physics textbook as Blaine walked into the library looking dazed.  "What happened?"  
  
Blaine took a seat across from him.  He didn't look any different than normal.  He wasn't even out of breath.  
  
"Did the music department get a new student?"  
  
Wes blinked.  "I hope you don't think I keep track of all the other music clubs outside of the Warblers."  
  
"..."  
  
"Okay, fine."  Why did they have to know each other so well?  "A new freshman named Kyle Baxter just joined band, and the music theory class got two new students, Ryan Falk and Jasen Collier.  They both transferred in from dropped classes."  
  
Blaine frowned at him.  "Do any of them play violin?"  
  
"I do.  But I've been here for ages."  Wes leaned in closer.  "What's this really about?"  
  
Blaine's eyes shifted away.  Wes knew that look, though he hadn't seen it in a while, not since their Freshman year when his friend had first transferred to the Academy as a jumpy kid still healing from various injuries.  
  
Just as the silence started to get uncomfortable, Blaine shifted, then shook his head.  "It's nothing.  Aren't we supposed to be studying?"  
  
Wes raised an eyebrow.  "Sure.  We can share my book."  
  
Blaine would tell him what was wrong sooner or later.  They were best friends, after all.  Wes just hoped it was before he burst into song about it.  
  
x  
  
Blaine didn't know what had come over him.  That tune he'd heard earlier, muffled behind a closed door, played through his mind for the rest of the day, until he found himself once again standing outside the door to 33G.  The hallway was empty now and the room in front of him silent.  
  
He raised his hand to knock, then waited...and waited...and waited for an answer.  Obviously, no one was home.  
  
With a last, curious look at the closed door, Blaine turned away, hoping to try again tomorrow.  Just as he was about to round the corner to the end of the hallway, a door clicked shut behind him.  A boy stood in front of 33G, pale and wearing a scarf in Dalton colors.  
  
"Hey!" Blaine called out, taking a step in the boy's direction.  "Hey, wait!"  
  
The boy ignored him and began to walk in the opposite direction, an arm pressing his messenger bag snugly against his side.  Blaine frowned at the rudeness and ran to catch up.   As soon as he managed to catch up to the other boy, he reached out and snagged his arm, tugging back.  
  
His reaction was immediate.  The boy whirled around and yanked away, eyes wide with fearful.  He cradled the arm Blaine had grabbed to his chest and stared at him, chest heaving with startled breaths.  
  
"What?"  His voice sounded off somehow, colored by an accent Blaine couldn't place.  
  
"I...uh..."  Crap.  It was the boy he'd sung to just that morning.  He quickly stuck out his hand and said," Hi.  I'm Blaine."  
  
"...Kurt."  The boy-Kurt, his name was Kurt, Blaine reminded himself-eyed the offered hand hesitantly before taking it in his own and squeezing briefly before pulling away.  
  
Blaine glanced at the door Kurt had just left, feeling kind of stupid for looking.  It wasn't like the violin he hoped was behind it was just going to jump out and say, 'hi' or something.  
  
"So, uh, are you new here?"  
  
Kurt was looking at Blaine like he wanted to run away, hopefully not screaming, so Blaine stepped up beside him and started to walk in the direction the other boy had been going, talking as he walked.  
  
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable this morning," he began.  "It's just, that song was made for flirting, you know?  Can you blame me for wanting it to be with you?  Oh."  He stopped and glanced back. "I don't mean to presume..."  
  
Kurt, still standing right where Blaine had left him, jumped and stared back at him with his mouth hanging slightly open.  Blaine watched curiously as he lifted one foot forward, moving slowly, then the other, until he was at Blaine's side and they were walking together.  Except, Blaine had no idea where they were headed.  
  
When he asked, Kurt just shrugged.  He'd been watching Blaine as they walked, his neck titled at a strange angle so that he could fully see the other boy's face.  Blaine had serious worries that the kid was going to walk into a wall or something at this rate, so he stopped once they'd reached the steps outside and turned to face him.  
  
"You want to go for coffee sometime?  There a Starbucks down the street.  I can never say no to a good cup of coffee, even if it is a bit overpriced."  
  
Kurt hesitated a moment, then nodded, smiling softly.  "Sure.  I'd like that."  
  
Was that a bit of slurring Blaine heard?  Maybe Kurt had a speech problem.  Or was a closet drunk.  No, Blaine decided, Kurt definitely wasn't drunk.  He held himself too poised and his gaze held too steady for that.  
  
Kurt suddenly fidgeted, one well-manicured hand reaching up to fiddle with the scarf at his neck.  "I should go.  Mr. Redding is waiting for me."  
  
Blaine frowned.  Mr. Redding was the school's guidance counselor.  "Oh.  Yeah.  Sure.  I'll see you around."  
  
It was only when Kurt had fled out sight did Blaine remember-he'd completely forgotten about the violin.  Irritated with himself, Blaine started for his car.  Now would have been the perfect time for that coffee.    
  
x  
  
Two people waited for Kurt in the office.  One was Mr. Redding, an older man with stern features, and a young woman Kurt found entirely too chipper.  
  
‘Hi, Kurt,’ Kimmy signed as soon as he walked through the door.  ‘Mr. Redding just wants to check in with you, see how you’re adjusting.’  
  
‘Fine,’ he signed back.  ‘I’m fine.’  
  
Mr. Redding cleared his throat.  “Why don’t you have a seat?”  
  
He slipped into the chair across from Mr. Redding’s desk and dropped his bag onto the floor next to it.  “Am I in trouble?”  
  
“No, no, nothing like that.  I just thought it would be a good idea to check in on you, make sure everything’s going okay.”  
  
Kurt waited for Kimmy’s hands to stop moving, then said, baffled, “It’s my first day.”  
  
“Yes, well, with your...disadvantage-”  
  
He didn‘t even bother to wait this time.  “Which one?  My being deaf or my being gay?”  
  
‘Kurt,’ Kimmy warned.    
  
He wondered if the words would have held more force had they been spoken, if he’d been able to hear them.  Of course, it certainly would have helped if the person meant to assist him didn’t look like they were twelve years old.  Because, really...  
  
‘A scrunchie, Kimmy?  Really?’  
  
Kimmy patted self-consciously at her hair.  Neither of them noticed Mr. Redding trying to get their attention until the man started waving his arms around.  They both turned back to him, Kimmy’s face red with embarrassment, Kurt’s just annoyed.  
  
“I suppose I should ask,” Mr. Redding said when both of their eyes were on him.  “Why did you drop your music lessons?  You haven’t even tried yet.”  
  
Kurt folded his arms, intending to sulk his way out of this.  He once sat with his dad for four hours until the man gave up and left him alone.  All he had to do was close his eyes and ignore the world around him.  Worked every time.  
  
The downside to this strategy was that he had no idea when it was safe to open his eyes.  Sure, a hand on the shoulder might seem like defeat, but usually it was just the other person trying to get him to open his eyes so they could ‘talk’ some more.  The only reason he’d wound up sitting on that couch for four hours was because his dad had walked off at some point in between.  
  
Maybe, if he sat here long enough, both Kimmy and Mr. Redding would walk away like his dad had.  He didn’t want to talk about this.  They couldn’t make him.  
  
At the front of the room, Mr. Redding stared at Kurt, then looked at Kimmy.  
  
“What’s he doing?” he finally asked.  “He’s not asleep, is he?”  
  
Kimmy sighed.  “I don’t think we’re going to get through to him today.”  
  
It was a shame.  He played beautifully.  
  
x  
  
The next morning at breakfast, Blaine spotted Kurt across the cafeteria.  He grabbed Wes’s arm and turned him around, ignoring the squawked protests his friend gave to the manhandling.  
  
“There!  That’s him.”  
  
Wes eyed the boy who was looking with distaste at the line of food in front of him.  "Isn't that...?"  
  
"C'mon.  Let's go talk to him."  
  
Sighing, Wes let himself be pulled along.  He wished he had lunch with David.  Blaine moved around too much when he got excited about something.  If David were there, they'd have already been seated, ready to eat.    
  
"Hi, Kurt," Blaine chirped, coming up behind him.  
  
Kurt stared at a blueberry muffin, then reluctantly put it on his plate.  Blaine frowned and tried again.  
  
"Kurt?"  
  
Nothing.  Kurt slid his tray to the side as the line moved along.  
  
"Uh, Blaine..."  Wes was beginning to see what the problem here was.  
  
"Well, that was rude," Blaine said.  Only Wes's hand on his arm kept him from leaving.  
  
Wes followed behind Kurt for a moment or two, eyeing him speculatively.  The kid looked like the skittish type, so he should probably be careful not to startle him.  He waited until Kurt had reached the cash register and paid for his food before stepping out in front of him to introduce himself.  
  
Kurt's eyes flittered to Blaine, a blush rising to color his cheeks.  "Nice to meet you," he said.  Wes noted the distinct sound of his voice, high and somewhat flat, though he hid the atonality of it well.  Why hadn't Blaine picked up on this yet?  
  
Wes jerked his head to one of the tables, careful to keep his mouth fully in Kurt's view.  "Why don't you come eat with us?  There's plenty of room."  
  
And if there wasn't, they'd make some.  One of the many perks of being a Warbler was that most of the other boys were only too happy to give up a chair if asked.  Politely, of course.    
  
They sat at one of the smaller, circular tables together.  Kurt began to meticulously arrange his silverware on the table, while Blaine started to talk.  Wes wanted to kick him under the table.  Kurt was staring down at the table, absorbed in the minute task before him, and couldn't have possibly known Blaine was speaking.  
  
Because he was deaf.  So very, very deaf.  Wes suspected that Kurt wouldn't look up from the table even if someone screamed.  
  
"Blaine," Wes said.  "Shut up."  
  
Blaine's mouth snapped shut and he shot Wes a hurt look.  Wes ignored him, choosing to lean forward and wave a hand under Kurt's nose instead.  The other boy finally looked up at them.  
  
"Sorry."  He glanced at Blaine again and quickly looked away.    
  
Wes made sure Kurt was looking at him, then said, "I know this is going to sound rude, but I don't think there's any other way to ask.  Were you born deaf?"  
  
Kurt wilted under Blaine's startled look.  "No.  Fever."  
  
Beside him, Blaine still struggled for words, so Wes sighed, taking it upon himself to carry the conversation.  
  
There wasn't much to say, though, when one's conversation partner sat silently across the table and refused to play along.  Blaine wasn't much better.  He just sat there and stared at Kurt with his mouth hanging open.  Wes wanted to smack them both.  
  
Fed up with the awkwardness, he finally stood, throwing his napkin on top of his plate.  "Well.  This has been...nice.  I'll see you around, Kurt."  
  
Ignoring Blaine's look of panic, Wes stepped grabbed his tray and headed for the door.  He glanced back once at the trash can.  Blaine and Kurt were still sitting there staring at each other, neither speaking.  
  
"Idiots," Wes muttered before stepping out the door.  
  
x  
  
Kurt left the lunchroom early.  He hadn't even finished his breakfast.  It had just been too horrible.  He'd had a cute boy-okay, two cute boys!-sitting across from them and he couldn't even have a decent conversation with him.  Blaine liked him, right?  He'd sung that song and came to see him and everything.  So why should it be so hard to talk to him?  
  
His phone beeped before his second period French class ended.  He opened it in the hall to see a text from his Dad waiting for him.  
  
 _'How's it going, kiddo?'_   it read.  _'Learning anything new?'_  
  
Kurt smiled.  His dad's typing skills had come a long way since he'd bought their first cell phones.  
  
 _'Great,'_   he typed back.  _'Did you know there are over a thousand types of cheeses in the French market.'_  
  
 _'That's great.  Look, I gotta go.  You take it easy, okay?'_  
  
 _'Sure.  Love you.'_  
  
 _'Love you, too.'_  
  
He should have been paying more attention.  His gaze was so firmly planted on the screen of his phone that he didn't notice one of the boys in the hall pass directly in front of him.  They collided with a hard thud, causing books and papers to fly to the floor.  
  
"Aw, jeez, I'm so-"    
  
Kurt missed the rest of the sentence as he bent to gather his stuff from the floor.  The other boy joined him, getting his own things as they worked.  Kurt caught a glimpse of sheet music before it was gathered up and tucked away into the other boy's folder.  
  
He hoisted his messenger bag back onto his shoulder and tried to turn away, but got snared by one long arm encircling his shoulder and pulling him along the hallway.  He had no idea what his captor was saying, as his mouth was turned away, and all his protests were soundly ignored.  
  
They stopped at a set of double doors, where Kurt tried to pull away.    
  
"I have class."  
  
Whatever the boy said in return was lost, 'cause he was still turned around!  Kurt fumed silently as he got pulled through the doors into a large room filled with comfy looking chairs and a couple of couches.  It was also filled with boys.  Lots and lots of boys.  
  
One of them stared and stood.  
  
"Kurt?"  
  
Kurt cursed his luck.  Of course, Blaine was there.  And, oh, look, Wes.  Wonderful.  Suddenly conscious of all the eyes on him, he took a step back.    
  
David looked between him and Blaine, confused.  "You guys know each other?"  
  
"This is Kurt," Wes said from his place behind the desk up front.  
  
"Oh!  Didn't you guys have eye sex the other day?"  
  
"David," Blaine hissed, giving a name to the boy who had dragged Kurt in.  
  
"I really have to go," Kurt said.  He'd finally made it unnoticed to the door and took the opportunity to slip out before anyone could stop him.  
  
x  
  
Kurt was a hard kid to track down, Blaine found out over the next few days.  Whenever they'd come across each other in the halls, he'd swiftly disappear among the student body.  If Blaine didn't know any better, he'd say Kurt could hear him coming.  
  
"Tough luck," David said, patting him on the shoulder after yet another attempt to corner him between classes.  He would have tried going to Kurt's room after classes, except for the increased Warblers rehearsals kept them all too busy for that.  
  
"I don't get it.  I really thought he liked me."  
  
On his other side, Wes rolled his eyes.  "Blaine.  You thought Jeremiah liked you-which makes you the very first Warbler ever to get banned from a retail store."  
  
Blaine's face flushed red.  "What?  C'mon, I can't be the only one."  
  
Wes gave him 'the look' that made Warblers, new and old alike, freeze.  "You are, Blaine.  In all of Warbler history.  Congratulations."  
  
"Why don't you skip rehearsal today?" David held up his hands defensively as Wes turned his glare to him.  "He's just going to obsess over this, otherwise, you know he will."  
  
"Fine.  But you're going to stay an extra hour late tomorrow to make up for it."  
  
Blaine did a brief mental dance of victory, sent David a thank you grin, and shot off down the hall with a new spring in his step.  He was going to make friends with Kurt if it-or Kurt himself-killed him.  
  
x  
  
There were a smattering of boys lined up outside the door when Blaine returned to the hallway Kurt's room was in.  No one was talking, just leaning against the walls, though a couple of them sat on the floor playing what looked like War with a pack of well-worn cards.  
  
Music drifted from behind Kurt's door, the slide of a bow over strings moving slow, occasionally picking up speed, like sharp exclamation points, before gliding back into its former cadence.  
  
Blaine nodded at the boy closest the door, who he recognized from one of last year's math classes.  "Hey.  What's going on?"  
  
The boy shrugged.  "It's the only way he'll play."  At Blaine's confused look, he added, "I'm his roommate."  
  
Blaine glanced around the hall at the other boys, then took a breath to steel himself.  When he put his hand on the doorknob, Kurt's roommate straightened up from his slouch.  
  
"What are you-"  
  
Blaine ignored him and opened the door, ignoring how Kurt's audience scattered behind him. Kurt sat on the end of his bed, back straight and violin in hand.  His eyes were closed as he played, his face as relaxed.  Blaine took a couple of steps inside.  
  
"Kurt."  Oh, wait.  Right.  Blaine winced at his mistake.  
  
Stepping closer, Blaine reached out to still Kurt's hand with his own.  
  
Kurt's eyes snapped open and he struck out with the bow, thwacking Blaine on the head with it and scrambling backwards with the violin clutched to his chest.  Once he realized who it was now curled up on the floor with their head in their hands, he leaped from the bed babbling apologies.  His hands moved subconsciously as he spoke, signing the words.  
  
Once it was determined that Blaine was, in fact, perfectly fine, not even concussed, they sat opposite each other on Kurt's bed.  His hands twisted nervously in the sheets, but he managed to keep his eyes up to watch Blaine's mouth move, though he had to overcome the urge to close his eyes and shut the world out.  
  
"You play really well," Blaine said.  "Why aren't you sign up with one of the music programs?"  
  
Kurt shrugged and glanced away.  "I'm deaf, Blaine."  
  
"So I noticed."  Eventually.  "But obviously you can play.  You'd do great in the orchestra."  
  
Kurt shook his head.  "No, I wouldn't.  You have to be able to work as a team.  I can't hear when something changes or goes wrong or if I go wrong."  
  
"Yeah, but-"  
  
"No, Blaine!"  Kurt's hand slashed through the air.  "Why is this so important to you?  You don't even know me."  
  
Blaine wilted under Kurt's glare.  "I know.  It's just...I like you.  And you have so much talent.  It'd be a shame to waste it."  
  
Kurt's gaze softened, but he still looked stern.  "Was that all you came for?  To pry into something that clearly is not your concern?"  
  
"Maybe we should start over."  Blaine glanced around the room, looking for something, anything, to talk about.  He was eventually forced to get off the bed and over to the little dresser up against the wall so he could rifle through the CDs lined up on the top.  Grinning, he pulled one out and turned to Kurt, who was watching him with a carefully blank face.  "Lady Gaga?  I would've figured you for something more...high brow.  Something more like Pavarotti or, I don't know, Kenny G."  
  
Kurt giggled, covering his mouth with one hand.  "God, no.  Lady Gaga is a woman ahead of her time-much like myself."  
  
Blaine raised an eyebrow at him.  "Really?  You seem pretty conformative to me."  
  
"We're at a private school, Blaine, of course I seem conformative.  Have you noticed the uniforms?"  
  
"Right."  Blaine sat back down.  "So how did you learn to talk so well?  You can barely tell you're, um, deaf."  
  
"Practice.  Lots of practice.  Here."  Kurt took Blaine's hand in his, blushing when they first touched, and raised it to his throat, which vibrated under Blaine's palm when he let out a long hum.  "See?"  
  
Kurt's roommate chose that moment to enter the room.  "Sorry, guys," he said.  "But I can't stay out there forever."  
  
Blaine snatched his hand away.  Both he and Kurt were blushing furiously, but they were also both good pretending nothing was wrong.  
  
"I should go."  Blaine stood and looked down at his new friend.  "You'll think about what I said?"  
  
Kurt shrugged and Blaine stepped out the door, his mind preoccupied by thoughts of Kurt.  
  
They would have spent the next week glued at the hip had classes and Warblers practice not gotten in the way of the newfound friendship.  The most time they spent together was during lunch and for an hour or two before curfew.    
  
Though they talked about almost everything, being more truthful with each other than Blaine had ever been with anyone, the subject of violins was avoided and tiptoed around.  The one time Blaine tried to bring it out, Kurt kicked him out with a simple, "I think you should leave."  
  
Blaine had stared at him a moment, hurt, before sliding off the bed and leaving.    
  
Kurt was left with feeling of guilt and shame gnawing at his insides for the rest of the night.  Blaine was only trying to help, one half of his mind chattered at him.  I never asked for his help, the other snarled.  He tried to block it out, but closing his eyes to block it out didn't work when it was his own thoughts working against him.  
  
He spent the next day in his room, taking a sick day.  His dad would have killed him had he just not showed up, though, so he did get the nurse's permission.  When Blaine came by later on to check on him, Kurt pretended to be asleep.  
  
x  
  
"I don't know what to do," Blaine said to Wes during lunch.  It'd been a week since Kurt had kicked him out and now he was avoiding Blaine.  He even managed to hide himself away during the lunch hour so that neither Blaine nor Wes could find him.  Hopefully, he was eating something and not starving himself.  
  
."I'm sure he's fine."  Wes shot him an irritated look.  Blaine had done nothing the past few days but talk about Kurt.  Normally, he'd find Blaine's little crushes amusing.  This was just annoying.  And kind of pathetic.     
  
"Yeah, but, what if-"  
  
"Blaine.  You're obsessing."  
  
Blaine looked down at the table in thought, but Wes's hopes for a dash of sanity were ruined when he looked back up and said, "Maybe I should sing to him again.  He seemed to like that."  
  
Wes shook his head.  "Just don't get yourself banned from Dalton.  It would reflect terribly on the Warbler's reputation.  You know how hard I work to maintain it."  
  
"I've gotta go," Blaine stood suddenly, grabbing his messenger bag and lunch tray.  
  
"Wait, what?  Where are you going?"  
  
"Research."  
  
x  
  
By the end of the day, Kurt was back at Mr. Redding's office with the far too chipper Kimmy.  Of course, he couldn't see them, not with his eyes closed, which was totally the point.  He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there when rough hands grabbed one of his arms and a familiar hand pried his own open.  
  
Rough palms signed against his own soft skin.  Stop this right now.  
  
Kurt slowly opened his eyes to see his dad leaning over him, a big frown on his face.  He squirmed in his seat at the look.  When had his dad thought to sign to him like that, anyway?   He knew they shouldn't have watched The Miracle Worker last week.  
  
"Now, Kurt," Mr. Redding began, "everyone here care about you.  We just want to help."  
  
In her seat by the guidance counselor's desk, Kimmy smiled.  Kurt wrinkled his nose.  
  
'Is this some kind of intervention,' he asked.  
  
'No,' Kimmy signed back to him.  'We just want what's best for you.'  
  
Kurt rolled his eyes.  'This is an intervention.'  
  
"Kurt," Burt said, waving a hand to get his son's attention.  'You've worked hard learning to play that violin.  You really just want to give up now?  What would  your mom say?"  
  
Kurt flinched at the low blow and sunk further into his seat.  
  
"Here's what we're going to do," Mr. Redding said.  "I've contacted Mrs. Johnston and she's going to start back here next week for Kurt's lesson.  That should give you plenty of time to prepare."  
  
'Isn't it about time he tried recitals?" Kimmy asked Burt.  
  
Kurt closed his eyes again, as it looked like the adults in the room were going to make whatever plans they wanted, anyway.  
  
When he and his dad finally left the office, Kurt still didn't know what they'd decided to do, but he didn't care to much.  Burt started signing to him the moment they stepped out the door.  Kurt turned his head stubbornly away, aware of all the people watching them curiously.  Those same rough hands gently turned him back around.  
  
'I want this for you,' Burt said.  'Can't you at least try?'  
  
Kurt shrugged again, making his dad sigh, his chest heaving up then down with the effort of it.  
  
He went to bed that night with a sense of dread, like the walls of his bedroom were closing in around him.  Playing the violin was the only thing he really wanted to do.  So why was he fighting this?  
  
x  
  
Blaine paused inside the doors of Dalton's library to breath in the rich, earthy smell of old books.  This room was like a cavern, its vaulted ceiling mere inches from the highest shelf beneath it.  There were a lot of books here, many of which had yet to be entered into the computer's search engine, but it was easy enough to find the section he needed.  
  
The sign language books were surprisingly sparse, with only ten total on the shelf.  He pulled one down and flipped through the pages of illustrated hand gestures, looking for the perfect word.  
  
Love?  No, definitely not.  He liked Kurt, but they barely knew each other.  
  
Commitment?  Not quite what he meant.  Besides, it was too...cold.  
  
Blaine thought back to the last time he was truly afraid.  Because that's what Kurt was.  Scared.  What would Blaine have wanted to hear back when he had been the one hurting and running away?  
  
One of the pictures caught his eye and he quickly looked below it for a translation.  
  
It read: _Courage._  
  



End file.
